Borrowed Time
by Captain Top Hat
Summary: Despite everyone's expectations, George Harkness keeps living to see birthday after birthday. A series of chapters chronicling how those days go, how the years take their toll and how his relationship with Katana evolves. T for the odd curse word.
1. 32

George Harkness spent his thirtieth birthday in a Belle Reve prison cell, counting how many people had, throughout his life, told him he wouldn't live to see that day. Friends, girlfriends, teachers. His parents. It was strange how they all seemed to know that that was the age he'd be dead by. 'If you don't get your act together, you'll be lucky to see thirty'. It was a countdown that seemed to have followed him his whole life, with no real reason as to why that was the golden number.

"Well, look at me now, Mum." He said, staring at the opposite wall and playing 'What's That Stain?', the only pastime available to him. He was debating between dried shit and very old blood.

He'd been in lock up for a few weeks now, ever since Midway City. Spending the day dirty, hungry and alone seemed fitting. Boomer knew that this was going to be what the rest of his life was like. Voice lost from screaming at security cameras, dignity lost from being left in a room with a steadily overflowing bucket of your own excrement. He wondered how long the rest of his life would be. As far as the word was concerned, he was on borrowed time.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out. He knew what it meant. As a group of guards assembled outside his cell, ready to subdue and extract him for another one of Waller's missions, Boomerang smiled at the irony of dying today.

"Well, least I proved the bastards wrong." He thought, smiling and getting ready to empty the bucket on the first guard in the door.

* * *

On his thirty-second birthday, Boomer was nursing several fractured ribs and a severely damaged coccyx. Two weeks previous he had had his ass handed to him during a mission and he was still laid up. He spent the day as he had spent the last fortnight, lying perfectly still, pissing through a tube and flinching whenever he breathed. At least he could guarantee that Waller wouldn't be sending him out. As he considered whether or not this was the worst birthday he'd ever had, a trapped nerve in his leg began to spasm, inadvertently causing his catheter to tug. Knowing that screaming would only make the pain in his back worse, he continued to silently stare at the ceiling, clenching his jaw near it's breaking point and pondering whether or not, if Waller did decide she wanted them, he'd be better off being dragged out to most likely die than to continue on like this.

He heard the hatch on his door open. There was whispering and Boomer wondered if some of the guards were going to take advantage of his current condition to give him an admittedly earned beating. Despite the better judgment he'd developed in his time at Belle Reve, Boomerang had given in to some pent up aggression just before their last field trip and he knew payback was on the cards. A new guard had laughed as he was being removed from his cell.

"Why do they even bring him out?" New Guy had said from the hallway as his partner, Walsh, had Boomerang facing the wall, waiting for the cuffs. "They got real, honest to God monsters with real damn super powers and then they got this putz. Fuckin' boomerangs? The hell good is that gonna do?"

Boomer had kept his eyes on the wall as New Guy continued. His first few years of beatings, starvation and extended solitary confinement had eventually taught him to keep his mouth shut sometimes. Belle Reve guards were the best at leaving you on the brink of death while making sure you were still usable.

"He doesn't even know how to be cannon fodder. Idiot keeps making it out alive. How many members of that damn Squad have come and gone since The Wall set it up? But this ugly bastard keeps making it back." New Guy took a step inside the cell once Walsh pulled the now restrained Boomerang away from the wall. "Can't fly, no lasers for eyes, can't even take one for the team and just die already. You really are useless, ain't ya', Kangaroo Jack?"

Boomer felt that the head-butt that sent New Guy's blood and teeth spraying across the cell room floor showed the rookie how useless he was.

If Waller hadn't insisted that he be brought out for the mission run down, Boomerang was sure that Walsh and the others would've punished him then and there. Now, as he lay incapacitated on his slab of a bed, he listened to the door opening and knew he had an unwanted birthday present coming his way.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling and thinking how they could possibly, given his current state, injure him without it ending in a body bag, Boomer was beyond surprised when a far more dangerous and altogether more welcome face appeared above him.

"Alright dahlin'?" He breathed, trying not to wince.

Katana raised a hand to indicate that he needn't speak.

"You do not heal as quickly as you once did."

Boomer smiled at this.

"Don't worry, I'll be fighin' fit for ya soon enough." Every word sent pain shooting through him but it was worth it. The visit was worth it.

"There is a guard outside who wishes to pull out your teeth while you're incapacitated. He himself is missing several. You did that, yes?"

Boomer raised his eyebrows and smiled, knowing that she would read it as a shameless admission of guilt.

"I have told him that, should any harm come to you as you recover, I will cut out his tongue."

"Cheers, love." Boomerang knew she didn't do it out of concern. She didn't care what happened to Belle Reve inmates, provided they were given a shot at defending themselves. She abhorred the torture tactics utilized by the guards and, whenever possible, used whatever sway she had to ensure that Squad members weren't subjected to them. It didn't always work. The threats worked better than the bargaining. Either way, it was a matter of principles. In that, she actually had them. He'd never tell her but Boomer respected the hell out of her for it.

Katana tipped her head slightly, signaling he was welcome for the threat against New Guy. After a moment's silence she stepped out of view and Boomerang waited to hear the door close behind her. Instead, he heard the far more unexpected sound of a can opening.

Mouth filling with saliva, Boomer suddenly felt the hard plastic of a straw being slid between his lips. Katana stepped back into view, hands just below his vision but clearing holding what he knew to be a cold can of beer.

He knew, as he sucked and swallowed, that he should savour the moment. It had been 142 days since he'd last managed to sneak a tall boy during a mission and the cool bubbles felt like heaven on his tongue. But he had never been one to pace himself. In no time Katana was pulling the straw from his lips, insisting there was nothing left.

"Bloody hell." He sighed, almost embarrassed by how satisfied he had been by the drink.

"I will see you when you are healed." Katana moved half an inch before stopping for a moment and slowly, cautiously placing a hand on his forearm. "Tanjoubi omedetou."

Then she disappeared from his view once again, this time with the sound of the door closing behind her.

Boomerang didn't speak Japanese. However, he knew that for the first time since he was a kid, someone gave a shit that it was his birthday.


	2. 36

**a/n:** Cheers for the favourites, follows and reviews. This is my first fic in 10 years and the response has been lovely.

* * *

It was the first time in years that he was celebrating his birthday outside of a cell. They'd found the base, taken out the enemy operatives, eliminated the double agent working against Waller and rescued the double agent working for Waller. And now they had twenty minutes before "evac", according to Flag. Fortunately they were in a Russian military base so a bottle of vodka was easy to find.

"I never drink this." Katana said, eyeing the shot glass.

"Come on, dahl." Boomer smiled, raising his own glass. "It's all we've got. And it's tradition."

A half-smile appeared and she followed suit, raising her glass to meet his.

"Tanjoubi omedetou." She said, simply.

"God bless ya."

They knocked them back. He swallowed the drink quickly, partially to get it down in one go and partially so he could laugh at the sight of her spluttering.

"Shit, dahlin'. I expected better."

Katana glared at him as she wiped her mouth. They sat across from each other on a locker room floor, legs crossed and a bottle sitting between them. She slid the glass back towards the bottle and tapped it.

"Again"

Boomer was surprised. The past few years she had always dropped in to his cell on this day. Initially she'd have just the one can with her, which she would watch him drink and then take with her when she left. Eventually he asked her why she never brought one for herself. She had told him that she didn't "drink that poison". The following year, she'd arrived with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. She'd insisted that it was one drink only and, sure enough, the bottle had left half full. That was just last year. Now here she was, calling for seconds.

"No complaints here." He said, pouring out two more measures. "This rate, we'll be nice 'n buzzed for the flight back."

"No." She said sternly, picking up her glass. "Last one."

"Whatever you say, dahl." He said, winking and throwing the shot back.

She seemed to handle it better the second time. However, they both jumped and coughed when Flag's voice came near.

"Katana?" He called out, entering the locker room. "You here?"

In a second she was up and rounding the nearby corner, heading straight for Flag's voice. Boomerang wondered if she was worried he might have come round the corner and seen them.

"Hai?" He heard her say.

"News from the chopper, it can't land. Apparently it crossed paths with some Spetsnaz troops, it had to fall back before they copped to it and Waller won't give the all clear to collect us till she knows we won't be noticed. Minimum wait time is two hours."

A smile crept across Boomerang's face. He heard her throw some Japanese at Flag.

"Just watch your back." Flag responded. "Our main job is to keep these assholes from blowing anything up."

"…hai."

Boomer listened to the combat boots walk off and waited for Katana to reappear. After a few seconds he started to worry that she may have left already. Fortunately, as he reached for the bottle, she slowly walked back around the corner. He could feel her watching him as her poured himself a third shot.

He looked up at her, straight in the eyes, raised the bottle and smiled suggestively.

"Chikushō." She sighed.

"That's the spirit." He smiled, as Katana sat down once more and lifted her glass to be filled.

* * *

Boomer's hands played with the empty vodka bottle while the rest of him was completely focused on watching Katana. She was talking a mile a minute and he couldn't understand a word that was coming out of her mouth but he was absorbed. He was fairly sure she was telling him a story but he couldn't figure out how he should be reacting to any of it. Occasionally she would laugh and he would do the same. Once in a while she seemed to ask him a question, in which case he found simply saying an agreeable "Sure" got her back on track pretty quickly.

When she finally stopped, she seemed very proud of herself. He guessed she might have been telling him a story about how she had killed something. He decided to give her a thumbs up.

"Fuckin' brilliant, dahl." He said, smiling encouragingly.

She seemed pleased with his response. Then she asked him something. He gave the usual response of "Sure", only to have her punch him on the arm.

"Ah, what the…" He stared at his arm, shocked at how hard the punch was.

She repeated herself, temperament shifting quickly. He shrugged. Another punch.

"Jesus Christ! Calm it, girlie!" Boomer pushed himself out of her reach.

Katana shook her head.

"Bakayarou." She muttered, before standing up, wobbling over to a nearby locker, leaning back against it and sliding back to the ground.

Boomer shuffled across the floor towards her, bottle still in hand. Easing himself around, he sat down next to Katana, who was struggling to pull her arm out of her jacket sleeve.

"Now that one I know." He said, assisting with the jacket predicament and placing it next to him. "Ya say that one a lot. Ya say it to me a lot. What's it mean?"

Katana tried waving him away.

"Come on." He nudged her with his elbow. "It's me birthday."

She turned her head to look at him. She still had the mask on. All these years, he'd never seen her without that mask.

"Bakayarou."

"Yeah, dahl, what's it mean?" He pushed.

"You…bakayarou." She slurred, her hyperactivity quickly being replaced by a slower, drowsier demeanor.

"So, what, it's like, handsome or something?"

"You…bakayarou." She repeated, getting frustrated.

"Daring? Sexy? Charming?" He threw out, knowing it would annoy her further.

"Ii kagen ni shiro!" She pushed him away slightly. "You…my…bakayarou."

And out of nowhere, her eyes shut, head rolled forward and Katana was out like a light.

Boomer sat in the silence for a while. He'd long ago given up on pursuing with any real seriousness the attraction that he'd had towards Katana. He felt they were both beyond that point now. Her appreciated her inexplicable kindness far too much to mess it up. But her use of the word "my" hit him hard. "My" bakayarou. He still didn't know what it meant but he sure as shit liked the sound of it.

He eased himself up and reached down to her, laying her on the ground. He left the empty bottle by her head before stumbling out of the locker room. Two steps down the corridor he jumped at the sound of an almighty scream, followed by three high-pitched words.

"Oh. My. God!"

Suddenly, Harley came running out of a nearby doorway. She looked around frantically before spotting him.

"You! Come look what I found!"

She ran back into the room, laughing to herself. Boomer questioned it for a second. Then the vodka decided he should follow her.

"Wha'cha think?" She asked him as he entered what was clearly a dorm.

"Jesus…" Boomerang stared at the contraption that she was presenting to him with her best magician's assistant stance. "The hell did they get that from?"

"I don't know!" She waved away the reasonable query. "The real question is, you brave enough, boomerwang?"

Even in his vodka-induced stupor, Boomer was skeptical.

"You know how to use that thing?"

"For sure, used one on Mr. J. Did my own too." Harley smiled her million-dollar smile. "So, you game?"

Boomer smiled.

"Yeah. I got one for ya."

* * *

Boomerang could just about hear Flag's voice over the sound of the buzzing.

"Alright, chopper's here, let's go people!"

The Colonel appeared at the door and stopped in his tracks.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

"Paintin' the Sistine Chapel, what's it look like?" Harley said, pushing herself closer to Boomerang, who lay shirtless and face down on one of the dorm beds.

Half way through yet another bottle of vodka, Boomer didn't give a shit that Flag was there. As far as he was concerned right now, it was his birthday and he could do what he wanted.

"Christ." Flag groaned. 'Well wrap it up, we're leaving."

"Almost…done…" Harley let out a whoop of joy and the buzzing stopped. "Finished!"

Before she had a chance to move off of him Boomer was up and out the door, heading straight for the locker room. Harley bounding after him, he threw open several locker doors before finding a full-length mirror. Turning around, he looked at his shoulder blade and smiled.

"Girlie, you're a fuckin' nutcase but you've a good hand."

"I know, right?" Harley smiled, rubbing at her ink-stained hands. "To think of all that time I spent at college and med school…wasting my time when I had this talent, just waitin' to be used."

There was a grunt from the corner. They spun around and Boomerang watched Katana shuffle towards them, holding her jacket and the empty bottle. Clearly she'd been woken by the noise.

"What is…" She caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. "What is that?"

Boomer smiled and turned his shoulder towards her.

"What'cha think, dahl?"

He could see Katana's eyes widening behind her mask. She muttered several things very quickly.

"Well?" He asked, waiting for her approval.

Katana looked at his face. She'd only been out for forty minutes and clearly still had a vodka haze but she did not look impressed.

"Why did you do this?" She asked.

Not quite the response he was expecting.

"I just…you said…" He shrugged. "I don't know. It's me birthday."

Katana placed her hand on his shoulder blade, right beneath the still healing tattoo.

"This," she said, struggling for words. "This means…ah…idiot? Or…asshole?"

The silence between the two of them was immense. It was also short-lived, as Harley was quick to burst into laughter.

"Oh boy, that is too good!" She managed between breaths.

Boomerang stared into Katana's eyes, his buzz disappearing with each second.

"But…you said…" He pretended to smile. "That's really what it means?"

Katana nodded.

"Also, it is spelled wrong." She said. "B-A-K-A-Y-A-R-O-U. You have no O."

"Shit, it gets better!" Harley let out.

Boomer's heart sank into his stomach and his stomach sank into oblivion.

"Yeah." He said through his forced smile. "Had to guess it. Ya say so much. Really thought I got it right."

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Boomerang. The fact that he was now branded with a constant reminder of what an idiot he was. It reinforced what everyone had said about him his whole life and continued to say about him now. The Belle Reve guards, Flag, his own damn "team mates". They all saw him as a joke. She was the only one he thought ever saw him as anything else. But now, looking into the awkward pity in her eyes, he could tell she saw him as just as big a fool as the rest did. More than anything, that's what really killed him.

The silence was broken with the sound of Flag's voice bellowing through the hall.

"I swear to God, people, you have thirty seconds to get on this damn chopper before I start blowin' heads sky high!"

Katana, whose head wasn't even at risk, took this as a cue to leave. She handed the empty bottle to Boomerang, brushed past him and Harley and was out the door without a word. When he was sure he wouldn't seem to be going after her, Boomer turned and headed out, stopping off at Harley's make-shift tattoo parlour to retrieve his shirt. A voice popped up behind him.

"It's really your birthday?"

He turned and saw Harley standing in the doorway.

"Yeah." He said quietly.

"Huh. Sucks to be you." She said, before spinning around and heading down the corridor.

Boomer glanced at the empty vodka bottle in one hand, his shirt in the other and silently agreed with her. As he made his way out the door he threw the bottle as hard as possible and found what little comfort he could in hearing it shatter against the wall.


	3. 38

**a/n:** Apologies in advance, this is a long one. But I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. Also, rather than being set solely on Boomerang's birthday it's more a series of events that stem from his birthday. Finally, I meant to send a thank you to thefudge is grumpy, who may or may not read this but who knows why the thank you exists. Everyone should read "We should get a drink sometime", if you haven't already. Anyway, onwards and upwards.

* * *

"We should do this more often."

Katana, whiskey in hand, leaned back in her plastic chair and shook her head.

"No, we shouldn't." She said.

"Come on." Boomerang pleaded from his bed. "Why not? We always have fun."

Although it was the first thing to spring to both of their minds, neither mentioned the Russia incident from two years ago. In fact, they had never spoken about it. Boomer considered that a small blessing.

"You are in prison. Prison is not meant to be fun." Katana gestured to the bottle that sat on the sink. "Even this is…unorthodox."

"Aye…but it's fun."

She muttered something under her breath and sipped at the whiskey.

"Alright." He said. "I've an idea. We make it twice a year. When's your birthday?"

Katana gave him a withering look and took another sip.

"What?" Boomer asked. "I wanna do something nice for ya' and the pleasure of my company's the best I got to offer." He cocked an eyebrow. "And you feel free to interpret that how you like, dahl."

He smiled as she threw some insults at him in her mother tongue.

"Right, right." He threw up his hands in defeat and took a sip from his glass. "Try to do something nice and all I get's abuse…typical."

"Yes." Katana nodded. "The whole world is truly against you."

"You said it, dahlin'."

They drank in silence for a moment. Boomer watched her shift in her chair, trying without success to find comfort on the hard plastic. Her eyes met his and he smiled.

"This." Katana gestured at her own face and then pointed at his. "This was the guards, yes?"

Boomer looked down at his glass and smiled into his drink. The guards had, indeed, taken out some frustrations on him that morning. The one drawback of these annual visits was that Walsh and his boys had copped to when his birthday was and always made sure to mark the date. This year they'd decided to give him two black eyes and a busted lip for his big day. The stitches in his lip were still new and they tugged when he smiled.

"Aye."

"Did you deserve it?" She asked.

He laughed, the stitches pulling.

"Don't I always?"

"If you didn't, I will look after it." She said, earnestly.

"I know you would, dahlin'." Boomerang lifted his glass to her. "Ya always have an eye out for me, don't 'cha?"

"I do the same for the others." She pointed out quickly.

Boomer didn't let it bother him.

"They don't get a birthday drink though, do they?" He smiled, wincing as his healing lip tore slightly.

He regretted saying it almost immediately. Although he didn't know why, he knew that that comment would prompt her to down the last of her drink and say goodbye. She never liked directly addressing this tradition of theirs. It was open to too many questions and Boomerang didn't think she wanted to answer any of them. And sure enough, the last of her whiskey disappeared in one gulp and Katana went to stand up.

"I will see you."

Cursing himself, Boomer quickly moved off the bed and stood next to her. He put a hand on the chair before she could pick it up.

"Hold on, dahl." He said, hoping it didn't sound as desperate as he heard it. "Just hold on a sec, yeah?"

She glanced up at him. He thought quickly.

"Just stay until I finish?" He offered, shaking the lick of whiskey that remained in his glass.

After a moment's hesitation, she gave in and began to sit back down. Satisfied, he moved back to the edge of his bed. Unfortunately, he couldn't help himself.

"Usually it's the girl sayin' that to me." He let out.

Katana was up before she even hit the seat. She took the glass from him, finished it herself, collected the chair, bottle and glasses and headed for the door. Despite himself, Boomer laughed as he tried coaxing her back.

"Nah, look, I'm sorry, I couldn't leave it sittin' there…dahlin'!" He watched the door close behind her. "Ah shit."

As he leaned back on his bed and began thinking about what the hell he was going to do for the rest of the day, the slot on his door slid open. His head shot up but he could see nothing through the gap.

"Tanjoubi omedetou." drifted in from outside.

He smiled and felt the blood begin to seep through his worn stitches.

"Cheers, love." He called out, just before the slot slammed shut once more.

* * *

3 Months Later

It had been many years since Tatsu truly called anywhere "home". Her apartment in Gotham was the closest thing she had to that now and even it was more of a stopgap. It housed the bare essentials, as well as one or two personal essentials. A shine to Maseo and to her parents, a few books that she remembered loving once and, usually, a good whiskey stock. In between missions, if time and geography allowed, she would rest there. Occasionally she would slip out to see Barbara. She too had her secrets to keep and so made an ideal companion for a black ops assassin.

This time, however, Tatsu had no intentions of contacting anyone. She had one night in Gotham and it wasn't a night she enjoyed acknowledging. Granted, her acquaintances would have no idea of the importance the day held, but she preferred to spend it alone.

Sat on her couch, legs stretched out in front of her, Tatsu listened to the screeches and sirens that were ever-present in Gotham City. A pang of guilt ran through her. She could have been out there trying to help. She began calculating the population of the city, factoring in how many police officers there were likely to be on duty, as well as how many masked vigilantes, of which there seemed to be more and more recently, there might have been out working. Even with all the help the city could get, it would never be safe. She glanced into the corner at Soultaker, safely hidden away in its saya. She wondered, not for the first time, if it was as loud in there as it was in Gotham City.

She sat forward and held her head in her hands, taking several slow, deep breathes. Eventually she surfaced, running her hands through her hair and wishing she had a whiskey. She had been sure she had some in stock but when her search earlier in the night had proven fruitless, she'd resigned herself to a sober evening. There were several liquor stores nearby but she couldn't be outside, not right now. The thought of being near people right now sickened her.

Tatsu thought back on the past year and the bloodshed that had accompanied it. She had taken lives and seen lives taken. There was nothing new in that. Yet, with each year that passed, she began to feel a heaviness in Soultaker. Like it was filling up. She imagined it bursting at the seams. Or perhaps the heaviness was not in her sword but in herself. Perhaps she was finally feeling the weight of the lives she'd taken.

A scream rang out not two blocks away. Tatsu wished Maseo was with her.

Needing a distraction, she decided to clear through the mail that had piled up in the weeks since her last stop off. She pulled the mountain of envelopes onto the couch and sat back. Mostly junk mail, a few bills. Then something caught her eye. Tatsu pulled a padded envelope from amongst the mess, turning it over in her hands and searching for anything suspicious. She found it when she spotted the Louisiana postmark.

With great trepidation, she opened the envelope and let it's contents fall onto the coffee table. The two miniature whiskey bottles clinked together as they hit the wood. She stared at them, lost for words. After a moment, Tatsu looked inside the package and spotted a piece of paper. The first thing she noticed after pulling it out was the handwriting, which was clearly trying hard to be as neat as possible, despite it's better nature.

"You can have mine.

Happy birthday, love."

Tatsu read the note, succinct as it was, several times before putting it down. She stared at the two small bottles lying on top of one another and slowly stood them up next to it. After a minute trying to put her thoughts straight a smile began to crawl across her lips. She picked up one of the miniatures, leaned back into the couch and opened it. It looked cheap. It spelled cheap. Tatsu took slightly more than a sip and, despite its mediocre taste, enjoyed it.

"Bakayarou." She muttered, smiling at the unopened miniature that stood on the table.

Another scream, closer than the last.

Tatsu looked to the window and then back to the unopened miniature. Within a minute she was fastening her mask.

It was hard, sometimes, to know that death was your purpose. That your gift to the world was in killing. After a while, it gets harder to remind yourself that you're anything other than a walking death knell. Her presence so rarely heralded anything else, she would often adopt the perception, as others had, that there was nothing more to her. Once in a while, though, someone would see her as something else, other than an angel of death. Once in a while, someone cared. And that reminded her that there was something left to care about. Death hadn't wholly consumed her yet.

Soultaker in hand, Katana positioned herself on her windowsill and looked across the Gotham skyline. She dropped silently to the ground, ready to assist in the endless task of saving Gotham.

She was more than killing. But, when necessary, she was still very, very good at it.

* * *

He'd taken to reciting dirty limericks to the security cameras. He didn't know which of them was watching or who might see the tapes. He didn't much care. Lying on his bed, eyes closed, he called out every one he could remember.

"There once was a hooker from Gotham, with a pussy so sweet-"

The sudden sound of the cell door opening had him up like a shot and ready to punch whoever had come to shut him up. When he recognized the guard, he lowered his fist.

"Yeah?" He asked, suspiciously.

The guard shrugged.

"Time to pay up."

Boomerang eyed him.

"And I'm supposed to just believe ya, that right, Kenny?"

The guard shrugged again.

"You don't really got a choice, dipshit."

"Well, it's not like your word really means shit, though." Boomer said, smiling. "We both know that."

Kenny stared at him for several seconds before turning and pointing to one of the cameras.

"I got five minutes before my buddy comes back from his break and "realises there was a glitch in the system". Five minutes of unrecorded, unsupervised fun. So if you're worried about whether or not you can trust me, that is not my problem. You should've had this argument with yourself before you made the deal."

Boomerang considered his options. Then he noticed that, behind Kenny, the door was still open, just a tad. Probably so he could make a quick exit if Boomer decided to fight back. He could knock Kenny out, no problem. How far would he get after that? What would they do to him when they caught him?

Accepting his fate, Boomer just nodded.

"Right. Get this over with, so." He said.

He began to prepare himself but took a step back when Kenny pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket.

"The fuck is this?" He demanded.

"Oh, yeah, my prices went up." Kenny smiled.

"Bullshit, nah, we had a deal."

"Yeah but I put a lot of work in. Getting personal information on one of Waller's people? Not easy and not cheap. Plus there's the cost of the whiskey, the postage…" He shook the pliers playfully. "Figured I deserved a bonus."

"Five minutes to beat the shit outta me." Boomer said, keeping a distance from Kenny. "I don't fight back, I don't tag out. No weapons. That was the deal. You get to take out whatever pent up, sexual tension you got towards me-"

"I could beat the shit outta you any time I wanted." Kenny threw out.

"Wanna bet?" Boomerang couldn't help but smile.

Kenny chewed the inside of his lip.

"Alright you piece of shit. I'm not leaving here without you bloody and crying. If I gotta strap you to the bed to do it, I will."

This last part left Boomer a bit confused.

"Wait…you don't actually want to fuck me, do you?" He asked.

Kenny came at him with a run, pushing him back against the wall and punching him hard in the face. The initial shock was quickly replaced with adrenaline and he grabbed the man's fist midway through its second swing. His eyes darted across Kenny, trying to find area to hit. Pussy had worn his full gear into the cell. With few options to go for, Boomer threw a fist straight into the guards nose, feeling a nice crunch as he did so. Kenny stumbled backwards and Boomerang took the opportunity the kick him forcefully in the chest, knocking him back further.

His eyes darted for door. Kenny was doubled over, his bloody nose in his hands. He could run. He'd be caught. But the thought of running down a Belle Reve corridor, uncuffed and laughing his head off, made him think, for a second, it'd be worth it. Before he could make his move, Kenny was standing up again, blocking his way.

"Fuck it anyway." He thought.

He barreled towards the guard, ready to rugby tackle him to the ground and bolt. Unfortunately, Kenny took a side step at just the wrong moment and managed not only to trip him up and send him hard into the ground but also slip an arm around his neck, pulling him into a chokehold.

As Boomer spluttered out a few choice curse words, Kenny pulled his head back and pushed a knee into the base of his spine. Boomer felt a twinge from the injury he'd suffered a few years back.

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch." Kenny spat into his ear. "I got more on you than you think. I can ruin what little joy there is in your piss poor excuse for a life."

Boomer forced a laughed as he pulled at Kenny's arm, wrapped tight around his throat.

"You seen my life, Kenny?" He managed. "What joy are we talkin' about here?"

Boomerang felt the blood from Kenny nose fall onto his neck and run down his back.

"Who do you think let's that little bitch in her with the booze every year?"

Boomerang felt his heart stop for a moment.

"She pays me to keep things quiet from Waller. I turn a blind eye, make sure the cameras have one of those "glitches" I mentioned." Kenny pushed his knee further into Boomerang's back. "I can stop those visits quicker then you can say a dingo ate your baby."

The hopelessness that washed over him as Kenny spoke was unlike anything Boomer had experienced before. His eyes stayed fixed on the door and it's sliver of an opening. He stopped struggling and let his hands drop from Kenny's arm.

He felt the pressure on his back subside and suddenly Kenny dragged him to his feet, keeping the chokehold in tact.

"Good choice." Kenny said, finally letting Boomerang go and pushing him to a safe distance. "She's too skinny for my taste but I get it. Stuck in here, you gotta take it where you can get it, right? Plus, the bitch is such a little whackjob and you know what they say about the crazy ones."

Boomerang remembered saying the same thing about her once, many years before. Hearing Kenny say it made him sick.

"Time's almost up." Boomer whispered, before nodding to the pliers that lay on the ground, thankfully lost during the shuffle. "What's the plan with them?"

Kenny picked up the pliers and pretended to shine them. Then he looked at Boomerang and smiled.

"Payback." He said, through several gaps in his teeth.

* * *

After five missions, Boomerang had "earned" a mirror above his sink. He knew by then that his allowance for putting his life on the line was never going to be like what the others got. No big TVs or fast food or even a magazine. He'd yelled about it to the guards for a few hours once and they eventually said it was based on how useful you were to the mission. Because he never did shit, he never got shit. He knew they fucking with him, that the truth was Waller just hated him. But sometimes, when it got really hard being in there, alone with your thoughts, he started believing them.

He stood at the sink now, staring into the mirror. Today wasn't a good day to be alone with his thoughts. He slowly opened his mouth, pulling his lips back into a snarl, before quickly letting his face drop back to its neutral stance. His hands gripped the sides of the sink and squeezed as he remembered the pain. He remembered the satisfaction on Kenny's face when a tear rolled down his cheek as he screamed. He hated himself for letting that happen. Fortunately the bastard's walkie had buzzed just after he pulled the first one, a voice telling him the cameras were about to go back online. He'd walked out of the cell so smugly, tossing his trophy into the air and catching it.

He had originally lost the tooth in a bar fight when he was too young to have been in a bar fight. The gold replacement had been paid for by his first successful heist. He barely recognized himself without it.

If any of the other guards knew what happened, they didn't care. No one came with gauze or painkillers. The blood didn't stop flowing for a long time. Boomer had felt weak for the past two days.

As he continued to watch his still reflection, a sound rang out that made him jump. He cursed himself for doing so, before realising what the sound meant.

"Shit."

The door pulled open and two guards were on him in seconds.

* * *

"You're quieter than usual." Floyd said, stopping next to him as he laced up his boots. "I'm not complaining or anything. Just saying"

Boomer kept his head down.

"Haven't ya heard? I found Jesus and took a vow of silence. Turns out rehabilitation works."

Floyd kicked at his boot, bringing Boomerang's attention upwards.

"Don't joke about Jesus." Deadshot warned.

Boomer stood up, matching his teammates height.

"Why not? He loves a joke. You ever seen a platypus?"

Deadshot stared at him and Boomerang knew why.

"The hell happened there?" He asked, not fighting back the smile.

Boomerang sealed his lips tightly and pretended to check his arsenal.

"Bust up with a guard." He said, sharpening the edge of one of his razor-sharp namesakes.

"That looks infected as shit." Deadshot said. "What, did he pull it out with rusty pliers?"

It had been years since Boomerang had played poker. He missed it sometimes. Had he been allowed a deck and some company, his poker face might not have been so out of practice. The hitman read saw the truth plastered on his face and let out a low whistle.

"Shit. No place like home, right?" He gave Boomerang a slap on the shoulder and walked over to the chopper.

Boomer sighed and let his head fall backwards. He stared up at the sky, watched the clouds drift past and followed a bird as it disappeared into the horizon.

"Hello?"

His head snapped forward and eyes settled on Katana, standing a few feet in front of him. Swallowing hard, he nodded a hello.

"I received a package in the post." She said, never one to beat around the bush.

He nodded again, keeping his mouth shut tight.

"I don't know how…" She looked him in the eyes and he saw something that pulled his thoughts away from everything else.

The pain and humiliation of the other night disappeared. The hours he'd spent trying to stem the bleeding by stuffing toilet paper in his mouth. The constant pain he now felt as the infection was spreading through his gum. None of it mattered anymore. What he saw in those eyes made it worth it.

"It meant…I appreciated it…" She seemed to be having a hard time expressing herself.

Forgetting himself, he smiled.

"Do I amaze you?" He said, laughing slightly.

The look on her face, usually so stoic, flashed to shock and he immediately faltered, smile whipped from his face.

"Chikushō." She breathed.

"Listen, don't worry about the pressie, yeah?" He said, tapping her slightly on the shoulder. "Told ya I wanted to do something nice for ya. So, ah, no worries."

He turned and headed for the chopper, keeping his head down and hoping with would be the mission that killed him.

* * *

After a solid sixteen hours sleep following their mission, Boomerang woke up in great pain. He bolted for the mirror and inspected his mouth. The infection was worsening. He wondered what he'd have to do to get some painkillers.

There was a bang at the door and the slot slid open.

"Harkness! Step back. You got a visitor."

"I am back!" He yelled, wincing in pain.

The guard looked into the cell and agreed that he was at a safe distance. Boomer was surprised and relieved to see it wasn't Kenny at he door.

The entrance opened up and Katana stepped in. He straightened up at the sight of her. The door shut with a thud and they stood in silence for a moment.

"Christ." He said, eventually. "I didn't sleep through till next year did I? Thought we still had a few more months till our little get together."

Katana took a few steps forward and looked up at him.

"I spoke to Lawton during the mission. He said someone ripped your tooth out with a rusty instrument."

Boomerang scratched the back of his head.

"Did he really?" He asked, feigning surprise.

"I think he told me because he thought I could do something about it." She said. "He seemed bothered by it."

Boomerang didn't need to feign the surprise this time.

Katana took another step towards the sink and placed a bloodstained gold tooth on its edge. Boomerang stared at it.

"There is a dentist coming in tomorrow. You all need to be checked. Any infected gums will be treated and anyone needing implants will receive them on return visits." She nodded to the tooth. "He knows to expect that."

Boomerang looked at her, not sure what to say.

"The guard roster has been changed for the next for weeks." She continued. "Kenny Jackson will be incapacitated for some time due to having broken both wrists and all of his fingers in a freak accident."

There was silence on his end. He did, however, smile slightly at this last piece of information.

Acknowledging his obvious pleasure at the news Katana let half a smile spread across her face for a moment. She began to head back to the door before turning to him again.

"Jackson is incompetent and sloppy. And you have about twenty pounds of muscle that he does not." She nodded to the tooth again. "How did he do that?"

Boomerang resisted the urge to dwell on her comment regarding his physique and instead decided not to detract from the conversation with jokes and insults. He decided, for some insane reason, to be honest.

"He said he'd stop you from comin' in for our get-togethers." He said simply. "Said he'd stop takin' your bribes, stop you from comin' through."

He wasn't used to telling people the truth. He didn't know if the confusion on Katana's face was usual for someone who'd just been told the truth.

"I'm sorry, what are you saying?" She asked.

"He, ah, said he let's you in here. You pay him. He said he'd stop…" Boomerang could tell from her look that something wasn't right. "Son of a bitch."

"I'm one of the highest ranking agents working for A.R.G.U.S." Katana said, without an ounce of boastfulness. "I have done things for Waller over the years that have earned me certain entitlements. If I want to come in here with a bottle of whiskey, I do not need a guard's permission."

Despite cursing himself for believing Kenny's threats, Boomerang smiled at Katana's unwavering self-assuredness, never a source of arrogance but rather a simple fact. She had power, she had status. That was that.

"Should've known you made the rules." He said.

The half smile appeared again and she gave him a small nod that said 'damn straight'.

They bid each other farewell and he watched her leave. He washed some of the blood from the tooth and sat on his bed, rolling it between his fingers. He wondered, if she had enough sway to arrange a dentist visit, whether or not she could get pink unicorns out of property lockup.


	4. 40

A/N: This thing was nearly the death of me. I went through 3 very different, much darker versions of this chapter over the past few weeks. I think I'm happy with this one and I hope you are too.

Even after ten years, the silence still did things to him. Enough hours of it and his thoughts went bad again. That was partially why he yelled so much. But the older he got, the quicker his voice would give out and the longer the silence lasted. Today, it had lasted a damn long time. When the door finally opened, the loud screech came as a relief.

Boomerang sat up on his bed and smiled.

"How're ya, dahlin'?"

"Good evening." Katana said, plastic chair in one hand and a brown bag in the other.

The door slammed shut behind her, pulled hard by today's guard. She didn't even flinch at the bang as she set up her chair.

"You're lucky I could fit you in." Boomerang said, nestling against the wall opposite her seat. "Everyone's been droppin' in for my big day. Even Waller. She had a big cake wheeled in for me, jumped out dressed like Marilyn Monroe."

Katana shot him a glance as she pulled the whiskey from the paper bag. He nodded playfully.

"If she heard you say that, she would castrate you herself." She said, pouring the drinks.

"Yeah, I get the feeling I wouldn't be the first, either." He took the glass from Katana. "Ta, love."

She sat down and raised her own glass.

"Tanjoubi omedetou."

He reciprocated the gesture and smiled, throwing her a wink as he took his first sip.

"Christ, that's good." He breathed as it travelled down his throat. "You always get the good shit, dahlin'. Christ knows I ain't worth it but I do appreciate it."

Katana didn't seem to acknowledge the sentiment. She seemed more distant than usual, apparently lost in thought as she began on her whiskey. He scratched at his chin and wondered whether or not to mention the realization he'd had recently. Maybe it would help her focus. Maybe it would piss her off.

"Ya know, I was half expectin' you in here a few weeks back." He started, still not sure if it was a good idea. "For our anniversary."

The wrinkle that appeared next to her left eye told him there was a frown behind the mask. He immediately regretted what he'd said but decided to go for broke.

"Couple of weeks ago." He tried to explain. "First time we met, first time you nearly killed me, first time you saved my life. All in one night. Ten years ago." He avoided direct eye contact as he spoke, opting to aim his speech at her glass of whiskey instead. "Just thinkin'…thought I'd mention it. Funny, is all. That's it."

The silence hung there, heavy and awkward. Eventually, she broke it.

"That is a very strange thing to say."

Not the worst response it could have gotten.

"Yeah." He forced a laughed. "But, sure, I say weird shit."

"Yes, you do." She responded, almost too quickly for his liking.

He needed to change the subject.

"Here, how come we never play any drinking games?"

Katana shook her head.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?" He asked, perhaps too aggressively. "What's the harm?"

"Their only purpose is to get you drunk faster." She said, as if to a child. "And we do not get drunk when we…do…this. One drink and that is all."

A rule that had been firmly enforced ever since the Russia incident.

"Come on, dahlin'." He pleaded. "It's my big one. I'm forty. You know how many people would shit themselves if they knew I'd made it this far?"

"They would probably be less surprised if they knew you were incarcerated." She pointed out.

"Whatever." He waved away the dig. "Come on. A non-drinking party game then? Like when you're a kid? No alcohol necessary. Well, there was always booze at mine anyway but, like, at normal people's kid's parties."

The look she was giving him implied that he'd lost her somewhere.

"No booze." He said. "Just a bit of fun."

Katana maintained her unimpressed look as she took a long, slow sip of whiskey.

"What kind of game?" She asked eventually. "I am not spinning a bottle on the floor."

"Nah, wouldn't dream of it." Boomerang scoffed, although in the back of his mind he wished he had thought of that. "Something tame."

"Like?"

A thought crept into his head and a smile crept onto his face. He sat up and moved onto the edge of the bed, placing his whiskey on the floor excitedly.

"Right, bare with me, think about it, give it a fair chance." He smiled. "Truth or dare."

"Absolutely not." She said again, without missing a beat.

"Ah, come on!" He moaned. "Please? Dahlin', I love these little get-togethers, I do, but, please…" He paused, debating whether or not to tell her the truth. Honesty seemed to come easier with her. "They're always over too quick and I don't wanna be alone again so soon."

Katana sat silently for a moment, watching him. She glanced at the door, then at the security cameras. Boomerang had never asked if she had them turned off before she came in. For a moment, he wondered if there was a stack of tapes somewhere, showing the two of them drinking and talking. He wondered who watched them.

"You are very easy to pity." She told him, snapping his focus back.

"That's nearly a compliment." He smiled.

"It is not meant as a compliment. Being pitiful is not a virtue." She said, never giving him an inch. "Regardless, I will play one game."

Boomer clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly.

"Brilliant." He pointed to Katana. "You are an absolute star."

"The first inappropriate dare out of your mouth –" She began warning him.

This only widened his smile.

"Cross me heart, dahl', perfect gentleman."

The look she gave him spoke volumes.

"Nah, I promise." He said, defensively. "Tell ya what, you go first. Ask me, truth or dare."

Katana seemed more surprised than he was that she was participating. With a shrug, she asked.

"Truth or dare?"

He drummed is hands on the side of the bed as he thought.

"Truth." He decided.

To his surprise, Katana smiled.

"What?" He asked of her expression.

"Nothing." The smile disappeared from her face and she began thinking. "Alright. I have a truth. Why pink unicorns?"

The question threw him off completely.

"What's that, love?" He asked desperately.

Katana took a slow sip of her whiskey, prolonging his torture.

"Why pink unicorns?" She repeated when the drink had gone down.

He smiled at her.

"Well. Someone's been through me psych evaluation." He said, trying to put off the inevitable answer.

"Many years ago." She said. "A few pieces stood out. Now. An answer?"

He shrugged.

"Everyone's got their shit, dahl'. Sometimes you know why it works and sometimes all you know is that it hits the right spot."

"That is not a truthful answer." She told him, clearly dissatisfied with his response.

"What do ya want?" He spread out his arms in exasperation. "Human sexuality is a vast and wondrous playground, dahlin', and all I know is I like the carousel horses."

They both endured their second awkward silence of the evening. It was again his fault and again up to her to break.

"That was nonsense." She said, blankly.

Inside he agreed with her but he chose to just shrug.

"It's the best you're getting." He took a sip of his whiskey. "Now it's my turn. Truth or dare?"

Katana was visibly uncomfortable.

"Truth."

"Good choice. Now that we know where the line is, I've got the perfect one for ya." Boomerang sat back against the wall, drink in hand and smiled. "Have you ever had an…unprofessional dream about anyone on the team?"

The look in her eyes told him the answer without her having to. He expected her to stand up and leave, cursing him out of it and snatching the booze from him. He wondered why, if he knew she'd get angry and storm off, he even asked the question. Fortunately, however, his assumption was wrong. Although clearly unwilling to answer the question, she stayed where she was.

"It's alright." He said, enjoying himself. "Christ knows I have. Croc was in a French maid's outfit, it really made things uncomfortable the next time I saw him…"

Despite herself, Katana let a laugh slip past her lips. He loved that sound.

"Fine." She said, after several more seconds of silence. "Yes."

"Bloody knew it." He said, beaming ear to ear. "Who was it?"

"No, that was a yes or no question. It is my turn." Katana said, sternly. "Truth or dare?"

Without having to think, he answered.

"Truth."

She went to sip from her whiskey again but found it empty. His spirits dipped at the sight of the empty glass. She'd leave soon. It'd be back to the silence. He watched her glance from the glass to the door and again at the cameras. Given her last truthful response, he decided that she must request the cameras be turned off when she was in there. Or, at the very least, that they be muted.

To his surprise, she reached down to the paper bag by her seat, pulled out the whiskey and began opening it.

"Holy shit!" He yelled out. "Someone's breakin' the one drink rule!"

"Damare!" She scolded him as she topped up her glass.

He frowned.

"Why do you always yell at me in Japanese?" He asked. "You know I have no clue what you're sayin', yeah?"

'You have proven that." She agreed, ignoring his own outstretched glass and placing the bottle back in the bag. "Which reminds me. My question. Why did you get that tattoo?"

Again thrown by her question, Boomerang thought quickly. He pulled the neck of his wife beater down several inches to reveal the large, unprofessionally scrawled MUM he had plastered across the left side of his chest.

"This one?" He asked, playing stupid. "I was young and she was the only woman I could ever trust. Till you came along."

He gave Katana a wink. She was unimpressed.

"You know that isn't the one I mean." She said.

He let go of his shirt and scrambled for an answer.

"Oh, what, that one?" He threw a thumb towards his back. "Christ, I haven't even thought of that in years. So, why did I get it?"

Katana nodded, beginning to lose her patience.

"Hell, I don't remember." He lied. "It was years ago and I was pissed."

He could tell she wasn't buying it. She looked into her newly filled glass and began swirling the liquid.

"Right, my go?" He chirped, wanting to move things along.

Her head shot up.

"No." She said, simply and directly. "I am not doing this anymore. So far you have dodged both of my questions and used your own turn solely to make me uncomfortable."

"Ah, come on, it's a bit of fun-"

"When you chose truth, I expected truth." Her tone surprised him. "If someone picks truth it is because they don't feel they need to hide anything from the other players. It implies an openness."

Boomerang just stared her.

"Is Truth or Dare, like, a really big deal in Japan?" He asked without a hint of sarcasm. "'Cause, seriously, it's just a bit of fun to everyone else."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was mildly disappointed. Not in finding out that no one took the game that seriously. It was a disappointment in him. It was a look he'd come to recognize early in life.

"Look," He played with his nearly empty glass. "I promise, the next question, total honesty, yeah?"

He half expected her to down her drink and leave. However, she only gestured to him.

"Fine." She said of his promise. "Your turn."

Boomerang didn't really want to play anymore. The evening had taken a turn that he hadn't expected. He'd been looking forward to this for so long. But he had managed, unsurprisingly, to mess it up. The atmosphere was cold. No one was having fun.

"Truth or dare?" He asked, with no enthusiasm.

The answer was predictable.

"Truth."

He ran a hand through his hair and thought hard. A hundred questions ran through his mind, each one prying and personal and sure to have her storming out. He wanted to ask them, just to see her angry. It took as much sense as he could muster to stop himself, knowing that the silence that would follow her exit wasn't worth it. Then again, she didn't leave after his last question. He imagined asking her whom the dream had been about. He imagined what the best and worst answer would be. He imagined what might happen if she gave the best answer. Even the chance of it was worth the risk of her storming out. He looked at her sitting across from him and he knew his question.

"Why do you come in here every year?"

The words fell from his lips without his even realising it. In the long, silent seconds that followed, he wondered why, of all the self-sabotaging questions he could have asked, his mind had chosen that one. He was supposed to ask whom she had dreamt about. She was supposed to admit it was him. Or, at the very least, admit it was Harley. He would've taken either answer, to be honest. But instead he'd asked the one question that they had silently agreed never to ask. Because of course he did. Because he always had to mess things up.

He knew that Katana, whose demeanor that evening had been more distant than usual, would not react well. He wondered if this would be the last time she stopped in on this day. However, despite his expectations, she did not start shouting or cursing in Japanese. She did not pack her things and storm off. She didn't even punch him.

She just looked down at her glass and let her thumb glide backwards and forward along the rim. He waited for the answer, not entirely sure if he wanted it.

"Actually," he said suddenly, even catching himself off guard. "I have another question. A better one. Forget that one."

His mind scrambled for another question. The damage was done. The question couldn't be unasked but his only option was to salvage what he could of the situation.

"If you could wake up tomorrow with a completely different life, anything you wanted, and no memory of this one, what would that life be?"

Had anyone asked him, Boomerang wouldn't have been able to say where the question came from. However, when he asked it, he found that he really did want to know the answer.

Katana seemed as thrown by it as he was. It merited a long minute's pause, during which she didn't once sip at the whiskey. She only seemed to be thinking.

"Alright." She said, finally. "Were I to wake up tomorrow with a dream life, Maseo and I would be living back in our home. We would start a family. I would continue fighting as I am now but not for Waller or anyone like her. I would help people. Those who are defenseless. And I would try to stop what happened to me from happening to anyone else."

"I heard about a great big bat who does that." Boomerang couldn't help himself.

"However," Katanana continued, ignoring him. "I would not wish to be without my memory of this life. It is seeing the things I've seen and doing the things I have done that would push me to help those who need it. Everything I have experienced has made me who I am and I would not wish to forget them, despite how painful they may have been."

That half smile flittered across her face.

"And there are people I know who I would not wish to forget." She added.

Boomerang tried not to react to this last sentiment.

"You're talkin' about Flag, ain't ya?" He asked, needing to say something.

The smile widened for a moment.

"Of course."

The silence that followed was far less difficult than the ones that had preceded it. It was, in fact, quite a peaceful one.

"So," Boomerang broke it. "am I getting another crack at that bottle or what?"

Katana shook her head as she took another sip from her own glass.

"No."

"Ah, come on!" He pleaded. "You're nearly finished your second! This rate, you'll be blitzed and I'll be sittin' here listening to your bloody jibberish-"

"Damare!" She called out for the second time.

"See, it's startin'."

She threw him a dangerous look.

"You can have one more if you answer a question honestly."

Boomerang shrugged.

"Fine. I can be honest for booze." He smiled.

Katana took his glass and began pouring the whiskey. Holding it just out of his reach, she asked him.

"What do you miss most about your freedom?"

Boomerang scoffed, reached over and snatched the glass from her.

"The answer's in the question, dahlin'."

They chatted for several minutes. Nothing heavy, only small talk. When it finally came time for her to leave, Katana collected her pieces and stood at the end of his bed.

"I will see you." She said.

He gave her a smile and nodded.

"Cheers, dahl'."

Katana went to knock on the door, alerting the guards of her exit. However, a second before she did so, something made him call out her name. She turned and waited.

"Can we do one more round?" He asked.

She took a step closer to his bed.

"You've already had two glasses-" She began.

"Nah, not another…round." He laughed. "One more round of the game. One more question."

Surprisingly, Katana smiled.

"Fine."

"Truth or dare?" He asked, knowing it was only a formality.

"Truth."

He knew what he wanted to ask and knew that he couldn't ask it. So he rephrased it.

"Was the sex dream you had about Harley?"

The long overdue series of Japanese curse words came tumbling out as she turned back to the door and knocked. It made him laugh, as it always did, but he managed to call after her.

"Please, dahl', I'm sorry, I just…"

Before the door opened, she turned to him. The look was unlike any he'd seen her give before. Even with the minimum amount of face he was working with he could make out embarrassment, anger and a pinch in her lips that made him think she was fighting back a smile.

"No. It was not." She said.

Boomerang gave her the dignity of leaving and shutting the door before he let a satisfied grin spread across his face. A moment later, the slot on the door slid open.

"It was Waylon in a French maid's uniform."

Boomerang was laughing long after the slot shut.

* * *

A/N: This thing was nearly the death of me. I went through 3 very different, much darker versions of this chapter over the past few weeks. I think I'm happy with this one and I hope you are too.


	5. 45

Lights out had been called hours ago and Boomerang strained through the darkness to see himself clearly in the mirror. He ran a hand across his face, trying to wipe away the wrinkles that seemed to be appearing more and more often.

"Harkness!" A voice yelled from outside the door.

"Blow me!" He yelled back, not even trying.

The slot in the door slid open, drawing a line of fluorescent light down the center of the cell.

"Visitor, asshole." The voice informed him, before slamming the slot shut.

Boomer flinched as the lights were turned on in his cell. The door opened and he smiled as best he could.

"Well this is a surprise. Wasn't expectin' you for a few more days."

"I presume I did not wake you." Katana said, setting a chair down and sitting back, although with some difficultly.

"Knee still healin' up?" He asked.

"Slowly." She began carefully stretching her left leg backwards and forward. "It is very irritating."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Jumpy little thing like you, used to bouncin' off the walls."

She stretched her leg out and Boomer heard several small cracks. He leaned back on the wall and watched her try to get comfortable.

"So, I'm obviously chuffed to see ya, dahl', but what's with the early visit?" He asked.

"I'm being deployed in an hour." Katana said, easing her leg back to the ground. "We don't know how long this one will take. I will likely be gone for a few days so…"

Boomerang understood and forced a smile.

"You might not be here for the big day." He nodded.

She gave him an apologetic look.

"Well, I appreciate it, dahlin'. I do." Boomer hated that the door had to be kept open now. He could see Kenny standing outside, back turned but obviously listening.

The new rule had been implemented shortly after his last psychological evaluation. According to the quack that Waller had shipped in, his "psychotic tendencies" had developed to slightly more than that. His medication was increased and no one was allowed to be in the cell with him with the door closed, just incase he decided to beat them into a coma. As far as he was concerned, it was bullshit. They were just trying to mess with him. They were always trying to mess with him.

Katana produced a bottle and poured their respective glasses. She handed one to him as he slid down the wall and sat across from her.

"Tanjoubi omedetou." She tilted her glass towards him.

"Cheers, dahl'." He took a gulp.

They sat in silence for a moment, until he couldn't take it any longer.

"What's the word on Lawton's kid?"

Katana sipped her whiskey and looked just left of his eyes.

"Waller kept her word. Her school will be paid for, she will be looked after. She will be fine."

"Yeah, free ride through grad school." Without thinking, Boomerang downed the rest of his whiskey. "That's the same thing. Practically brings him back to life."

Katana looked off to the side, clearly unsure of what to say.

"This is what happens." She said eventually. "It has happened before and will happen again. They all die -"

"Please, just…." Boomerang tried not to yell, knowing he'd be restrained and sedated in a heartbeat. "I don't know if this is you trying to make things better, dahlin', but you fuckin' suck at it."

"This is what happens-" She began again.

"He was the last one." Boomer said, staring at his empty tumbler. "Years of these suicide missions, someone always dies, someone new comes along, someone else dies. Until me and him are the only ones left from that first night. And now it's just me."

Katana shifted in her seat.

"Just you?"

He looked up at her for a moment, although she still wasn't quite meeting his gaze.

"Ah, dahlin', it's different. You volunteered for this shit. You can leave whenever you want. I can't walk away from this." Always conscious of not yelling, Boomerang began squeezing his glass. "Fuck, I can't walk twenty feet from my own fuckin' bed unless it's to go kill someone."

Katana finally met his eye again.

"You think that I am allowed to walk away?" She asked.

He looked back to his glass.

"Whatever." Boomerang said, before grabbing the whiskey bottle, though stopping short of actually picking it up. "Thing is, I shouldn't be the last one standing."

Katana stayed still, making no attempt to pull the bottle from his grip.

"I should've died." He said. "I should've died years ago."

It was the first time he'd said the words out loud. Hearing them said in his own voice felt different. It wasn't just the voices whispering it to him anymore. It wasn't just a swirl of incoherent thoughts anymore. Saying it out loud gave it weight. It felt more real.

"It shouldn't have been him. Couple more years, he'd be outta here. Worked up the time. Bastard deserved it." He heard his voice cracking. "I never…why am I still alive?"

Katana continued to sit silently. Boomerang didn't know whether he'd prefer an answer to the question.

"We're all shitbags, I get that." He continued. "But some of us are better, yeah? Some of us are worth somethin'. Some of us have a purpose. That was Lawton. He had purpose and he had somethin' to live for. I'm just a shitbag. A shitbag that does fuck-all for anyone. What fuckin' use am I?"

A snort came from just beyond the door.

"That's what I've been sayin' for years." Kenny laughed.

Katana spun around quick as anything.

"Damare, konoyarou!"

She slowly turned back around and looked at him.

He could tell that she was trying to find something to say. He wasn't surprised when nothing came. Berating himself, Boomerang quickly wiped at his eyes and stood up, taking the bottle with him on the way.

"Fuck it anyway." He shrugged, before knocking the whiskey back at an inhuman pace.

Katana stood up, placed a hand on the bottle and eased it down from his lips. Boomerang looked at her and waited for something. Anything. She rested a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

"Kimi no jinsei, imi go aruyo."

Despite everything, Boomerang laughed.

"I tell ya, dahlin', I always feel like I'm missing the important bits with you."

After a moment, she removed her hand from his shoulder. Boomerang watched as she reached into her hair and began removing her mask. It had been fifteen years since they'd first met. Or, since she had first held him at sword point. In those years he had often wondered what was behind her mask. A glimpse here and there gave little clue but when she finally pulled it away he smiled at how suited the picture was. Haunted and scarred and perfect.

Katana placed her hands to the back of Boomerang's neck and gently lay her unmasked forehead on his chest. He felt her thumb tracing the minute scar left years before by his implant and the effect was more soothing than he would've imagined. For the first few seconds, his arms stayed by his side, partially drained whiskey bottle swinging in the air. Soon though, they wrapped around her, his free hand gripping tightly at her jacket. He couldn't tell how long the embrace lasted. He just shut his eyes and felt the warmth of having someone there with him. Eventually he felt her stepping away. Knowing it couldn't last, he let go, surprised when he found himself able to look her in the eyes afterwards. She returned her mask to its rightful place and then placed her hand to his cheek.

"I will see you."

She turned to leave, picking up the chair as she went, before turning back to him and gesturing for the bottle. He gave her a smile and a pleading look but handed it back.

Boomer watched her walk out and wondered if he would see her again. He wondered whether this was the mission she didn't come back from. She said it herself. They all die.

Except for him, apparently.

Before the door closed, Kenny looked in at him.

"No wonder she ain't never fucked you. Pussy."

"Jesus Christ, Kenny, it's been thirteen years, don't you get dental workin' here?"

Kenny smiled a jagged, gap-toothed smile before flipping him the bird and shutting the door.

The lights went out once again and Boomerang was left to the darkness. Sitting back against the hard, stone wall, he stared into the shadows.

* * *

13 years earlier

"Come on, ya little ninja." He said, playfully tugging at the arm she had draped over his shoulders. "Gotta keep goin'."

"I am not a ninja." She managed between grunts.

"Whatever, dahl', just keep moving that nice little rear of yours."

The slap he received in the back of his head was a humourous distraction from their hostile surroundings. The corridors of the Metro City skyscraper looked deserted but both he and Katana knew that a turn around the wrong corner could have them dead in a second.

He felt her falter slightly and slip from his grip. With a great pull his arm was wrapped tight around her waist again and they continued their trek down the hallway. The sudden movement made her yell out in pain.

"Easy, dahl'." He hushed, glancing around.

"You be easy. I am shot, do not throw me around like that."

"Calm down, alright?" He nudged open a conference room door with his boot and looked inside. "It's not fatal."

The room seemed empty, the door had a lock on it and there was a wet bar in the corner. It would do nicely.

"You do not know that." She winced as he walked her to the large table that ran nearly the length of the room.

Easing her arm from his shoulders, Boomerang let her sit down in one of the black leather seats. His hand, held firmly against her waist a moment before, was now wet with blood.

"Right, you've seen worse, yeah?" He smiled, wiping the palm against his coat. "This is no bother. We'll just…"

He had no end to the sentence. They were separated from the others with no means of communication. Katana was bleeding out and in no state to fight. The building and those surrounding it were overtaken with members of a League of Assassins splinter cell. They were fucked. His thoughts were brought back into focus when Katana slammed her fist on the wooden table.

"We need to contact Flag." She said through clenched teeth.

With a roll of his eyes, Boomer walked off towards the wet bar.

"Well, when you figure out how to do that, you let me know." He squatted down and began rummaging through the alcohol selection.

He was unsurprised and yet still mildly disappointed that there were no cans of beer supplied in the corporate conference room. Brandy in one hand and whiskey in the other, he wondered which could get him drunk quicker.

"What do you reckon?" He asked her from across the room, shaking each bottle as he spoke. "Scotland or…wherever Brandy comes from?"

Katana looked up from her wound and glared at him.

"What are you doing? We need to find the others."

He snorted and shook his head.

"Nah, the way I see it, this ends one of two ways. We live, in which case I am not goin' back to that cell without alcohol in me system. Or, we die." He shrugged. "Which I am not doing sober."

Something told him to pick the whiskey. Feeling like destroying something extravagant, Boomerang casually tossed the brandy over his shoulder and heard the bottle smash. The satisfaction was simple and fleeting but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Returning to the table, Boomerang sat himself down next to Katana and started opening the bottle. With a wince, she pulled the bottle from his grasp and held it away from him.

"Hey! I was gonna give you some!" He yelled, reaching for the bottle.

"Suwatte kudasai!" She growled at him, pushing him back to his seat with her free hand.

He let out a frustrated yell.

"I don't speak Japanese! Stop yelling at me in Japanese!" He stretched out his hand. "Now give me my booze so I can die in peace!"

Using one foot she pushed her chair away from him, bringing both her and the whiskey further out of his reach. She stood the bottle on the table and placed her hand on the wound in her side.

"You will help me deal with this." She nodded to the blood dribbling from between her fingers. "Then we will leave here, we will contact the others and we will arrange an evacuation. Then you can have your drink."

Boomerang spent a moment pretending to think about her offer before lunging towards her chair, arm aiming for the whiskey. Even in her injured state, Katana was faster than he was. In a second he was pushed back on the table with a sword pressed against his throat and a very angry samurai in his face. He could see something other than anger in her eyes though. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she looked the smallest bit scared. Before he had time to make an inappropriate comment about her being on top, Katana crumbled to the ground, clutching her side and moaning in pain.

Boomerang sat up and watched her on the floor. Any other day, she could kill him without so much as a thought. Seeing her in that state felt…wrong. He glanced at the bottle of whiskey.

"Fuck."

He reached to the ground, slipped an arm around her and pulled her up to lean against the table.

"Right." He said, begrudgingly. "Do you know how to do this? Cause I sure as shit don't."

Katana repositioned herself against the table, leaning back on one elbow and slowly pulling her hand from her side. After a moment's inspection, she looked to him.

"It may not be too difficult." She said slowly. "The bullet appears to have gone through so you do not need to remove anything."

"What do I have to do then?" He asked, trying to hurry her along.

"It needs to be cleaned and bandaged." She told him.

"Perfect!" He began shrugging off his coat. "Easy as."

Upon Katana's instruction, Boomerang went to a cupboard at the far end of the room to search for a first aid kit. Among coffee filters, boxes of pens and several black markers that he took a minute to pocket for future sniffing, Boomerang found a small green box marked with a white cross. The sudden crash of the door busting in spun him around.

Two armed assassins entered the room and headed straight for Katana. They got two feet in before the whistle of a razor sharp boomerang fizzed past them and they collapsed to the ground. When it sailed back into his gloved hand, the thinnest film of blood was dripping from it. However, it was enough.

Boomerang stepped over the bodies as he made his way to the door, shutting it again and blocking it as best he could with a chair. The first aid box landed on the conference table with a thud.

"Thank you."

Boomerang looked at Katana and frowned in confusion. He followed her gaze to the bodies behind him, the blood from their throats beginning to stain the expensive carpet. He looked back at her and shrugged it off.

"No worries." He said simply, fighting with the child lock on the box.

Katana unclasped it with ease and he started pulling out reams of bandages.

"So, what, I just wrap you up and we're done?" He asked.

"No." Katana grunted. "First you need to clean it. There should be some disinfectant or rubbing alcohol…"

She trailed off. It seemed like she needed a moment to clear her head through the pain. Boomerang poked through the box and found nothing else but cotton balls and tape.

"Nothin' like that here, dahlin'." He scratched the back of his head. "Any other ideas?"

Katana looked him in the eyes and then very slowly shifted her head towards the bottle of whiskey that still sat waiting for him. It took him a second but when it connected, he wasn't happy.

"Are you…" He looked from her to the bottle several times before admitting defeat and snatching it up. "You are killin' me, dahlin'."

Cursing himself for wasting the brandy in his earlier, spontaneous moment of destruction, Boomer opened the bottle. The smell of the whiskey hit him hard. It was all he could do not to start at it. 127 days. That's how long it had been since his last drink. He'd be damned if he was finishing this mission without getting something in him.

"Clean your hands first."

His thoughts snapped back to Katana.

"What's that?"

"Pour it on your hands." She said slowly as she pulled her blood-stained shirt up a few inches, exposing the bullet hole.

With some reservation Boomerang removed his glove, rolled up his sleeves and poured the brown liquid over each of his hands. Handing the bottle to Katana he rubbed them together for several seconds before holding them up for her inspection.

"Happy?"

She pushed the bottle back to him and nodded. Looking down at the hole in her side, he made no attempt to cover up the look of disgust on his face.

"Christ that is manky."

A string of curse words came at him, none of which he understood.

"Alright! Calm down!" He took a deep breath. "You ready?"

He didn't wait for a response. Doing it by surprise was the best approach. With a silent goodbye he began tipping the whiskey over her wound. Her scream was sudden and it was loud. It was also accompanied by a hand shooting out to grip onto his shirt collar.

"That's it, dahl', let it out." He said, pulling the bottle back and using his hand to wipe away any drying blood.

"Bandage." She let out.

Boomerang did his best to wrap her up. It wasn't perfect but it was adequate. That was the very word she had used when he was finished.

"Alright." He smiled, shuffling back into his coat. "Drinky time. Think there's enough left for-"

The bottle was, again, pulled from his reach. He glared at her.

"Christ, come on, one sip won't-"

"We contact the others, we arrange an evacuation, you get your drink." She said, a breath between each step of her plan.

The frustration was getting too much for him. She didn't know what it was like. Every day spent in that cell. Guards beat the shit out of you. You get pulled out for crazy shit like this and no one cares if you come back. The only thing he had to look forward to was a drop of booze on these bloody missions and he couldn't even get that.

Fists clenching, he prepared himself to tell her all of it. To demand that she give him the bottle and leave him to die drinking. Yet again, the door busting in drew his attention.

Boomerang spun around just in time to receive a firm kick to the face that sent him falling to the ground. Up in a flash, he managed to side step the next kick. He grabbed the intruder by their outstretched leg and sliced through their hamstring with one of his namesakes. A punch to the face sent the assassin falling backwards and a few kicks to the head kept them down.

Still angry and now pumped full of adrenaline, Boomerang turned to the conference table, grabbed the whiskey bottle by its neck and looked at Katana.

"I'm bringin' this with me!" He told her firmly, shaking the bottle and then storming towards the open door.

The corridor appeared empty. He turned back to her and gestured.

"Come on, we're good to go."

Easing herself from the table, Katana stood as best she could.

"I still can not walk on my own." She pointed out, though it seemed hard for her to admit.

Refusing to loose his stride, Boomerang marched back in. Just as he began propping her up, something occurred to him.

"One sec, love."

Taking two steps to the side, he turned his back to Katana and began poking around his bottomless-pit of a coat, searching for a spot to store the whiskey.

"Look after this, Pinky." He whispered, sliding the bottle in next to the plush.

Two minutes later they were moving down the hallway with their weapons drawn. Her plan was to head for the roof, as that was where Flag was directing the others before they were ambushed and separated. They didn't know for sure that the squad would be there, or how many would be left, but it was their only shot. Katana figured that, at worst, they might be able to signal a chopper. Boomerang trusted her judgement.

Using his shoulder, he pushed open a door that led to the emergency stairwell.

"You manage that?" He nodded to the dozen or so flights of steps.

Katana sighed and nodded, both of them knowing that there wasn't much of a choice.

They took the steps slowly, despite the urgency of the situation. His first aid talents were nothing to be proud of and Boomerang found himself glancing more and more often to her injury. The bandages were beginning to stain red.

"You know…there's a good chance we're gonna die." He said.

Katana said nothing, only winced as they started another set of steps. He continued.

"I don't know about you but…if I knew this was my last night on Earth…my last remaining moments, probably…I'd be thinkin' about missed opportunities, ya know? Like, places I'd never been. Thing's I'd never stolen." He smiled, preparing himself for the reaction. "Dashing Australian's I'd never banged in a stairway."

The back of his head received its second smack of the evening. He laughed heartily at the stream of Japanese that was spat at him, knowing full well none of it was complementary.

"I'm kidding, dahlin', I'm kidding!" He insisted, smile spread across his face. "Unless you change your mind before we get to the top."

She didn't even hit him that time. She simply scoffed and muttered to herself.

"Bakayarou."

Boomerang cocked an eyebrow.

"Now you're just makin' words up."

She stumbled on the next step and he tried his best to straighten her. It was clear she didn't have many more floors in her and from what he could see, Boomerang guessed they had a least five more to clear before they reached the roof. He thought about telling her to wait there, that he would check out the roof and come back. Then he realized she would probably shout at him again if he suggested it. Perhaps a minute's rest was a better suggestion.

"Why don't we hold on a sec?" He offered when they reached the next mezzanine. "I need to catch my breath."

With Katana leaning against the wall, Boomerang stood by the railings and stared down at the never-ending waterfall of steps that lay beneath them. It only took a few seconds for him to get dizzy, at which point he was happily reminded of the markers in his pocket. He looked down at his coat, trying to remember where he'd put the little huffers, when a low whistle caught his attention. As he glanced up towards the sound he was met with another kick to the face.

He stumbled backwards into the wall, barely registering the black-clad assassin who swung down from the railings above theirs. She dropped onto their floor and easily deflected the punch that Boomerang threw at her before knocking him down with one of her own. From the ground, Boomerang saw the woman pull a pair of tonfas from behind her and lung at Katana. Without missing a beat, Katana swung Soultaker at her attacker. Unfortunately the injury was finally slowing her down. She just about managed to scratch the assassin's abdomen before the woman twisted out of her reach and landed a series of blows with the heavy batons. Several of these quick hits were aimed at Katana's injury and within a matter of seconds she was on the ground, writhing in agony.

Boomerang pushed himself up and ran at the assassin, only for her to spin and dodge him at the last instant. Before he could turn to face her he felt a hard kick to his back that sent him crashing face-first into the wall. As he took two seconds to recover from his daze, he felt a foot drive deep into the base of his spine and twist. The pain was indescribable. Both of his arms were suddenly gripped tightly and pulled behind him, clearly with the intention of snapping them. However, before he felt the break Boomerang heard a shriek of pain from someone other than himself.

The pressure on his arms and back released and he managed to see their assailant stumble to the ground, clutching at her leg or, more accurately, the stump that now ended shortly after her knee. He then looked to Katana. Still on the floor and Soultaker in hand, she was taking deep, uneven breaths. A severed foot lay next to her.

"Fair play." Boomerang nodded to her.

He took a step from the wall and immediately regretted it, the pain in his back reemerging and vibrating through his body.

"Jesus Christ!" He yelled out, clutching at the base of his spine before sliding to the ground. "Oh, you bitch."

He kicked out at the woman's face, silencing her screams and knocking her unconscious. He glanced over at Katana.

"How we doin' over there?"

She'd received several hits to the face, leaving her with a busted lip and more than likely some bruising in the morning. The mask was still intact. They both looked to her injury, now bleeding through the bandages once more. Angered, Boomerang kicked the woman again, pointless as it was. He looked to the steps leading up to the next floor, then back at Katana, a smile on his face.

"What do ya reckon?" He asked. "No biggie, eh?"

Katana managed half a smile before her eyes registered something behind him on the stairs. Before he had a chance to react Boomerang had Soultaker shooting past his face and the sound of steel on steel ringing in his ears. He quickly turned his head and saw another assassin whose sword was mere inches from taking his face off, were it not for Katana.

With limited options, Boomerang screamed through the pain and threw himself at the lower half of the attacker, knocking him back onto the steps. It was messy. It was a hail of fists. Boomerang disarmed the assassin and they pummeled eachother, punching, kicking and gouging their way across the floor of the mezzanine. Eventually they had made their way to the edge of the previous set of stairs. Boomerang wasn't sure who pushed who but both men went tumbling.

In the seven or so seconds it took to land on the lower mezzanine, Boomerang truly thought he would die. He could feel several blows to the head on his way down. Felt the injuries sustained from both attackers worsening with each concrete step. He was sure his neck would snap any second.

And then he was laying flat. Face to the ceiling, breathing breath after slow, painful breath. Afraid to move his body he shifted his eyes to his left, taking in the image of the dead assassin lying next to him. His had been the neck that had snapped.

After a few seconds, the slow realization of how much pain he was actually in began to dawn on Boomer. The ribs, they were fucked. The back too, for sure. He could taste blood in his mouth and hoped he hadn't lost his gold tooth. He also felt something sharp sticking into his side. It felt wet too, though not the kind of wet he would associate with bleeding. Then it dawned on him.

"Aw no. Aw no, no, no." Fighting through the pain, he slowly reached his arm into his coat and felt the shards of the shattered whiskey bottle. "Oh…fuck you."

The sound of a pained grunt drew his attention towards the top of the steps. Katana, looking to be on her last legs, clung to the railings and looked over the stairs at him. She was on the ground and seemed to have pulled herself across the floor to reach her current spot. She almost looked relieved to see his eyes open.

"You are alive?" She asked.

He smiled up at her.

"Yeah. But, dahlin', it might be time you considered that scenario we were discussin' earlier…" He started laughing and then yelled out in pain. "I think your window of opportunity is closin' down here."

He saw her smile as best she could.

"I will decline, thank you." She said between breaths. "Your time may be better suited having your drink. It would be only fair."

Retrieving one of the glass shards from his pocket, Boomerang waved it up to her.

"Nothing's ever fair, love."

She nodded in agreement, before closing her eyes. He looked back to the ceiling. They each lay as they were, one up and one down, for a minute in silence.

"You still alive?" He asked eventually.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Good. Just checking."

A few minutes later, the door near Boomerang's head had swung open. Against all odds, the face that came into his vision had belonged to Flag. The Momma's Boy barely spent a second on him before going up to Katana. But that was alright. She needed help. Flag was quickly followed by Lawton and the others. Croc managed to carry Boomerang to the chopper on the roof, for which Boomerang did thank him but begged him never to mention again.

When he'd arrived back at Belle Reve the medics said that most of his injuries required only time to heal and that the best they could do was put him on bed rest. He had demanded painkillers. Waller had said no.

As he was being returned to his cell to begin his weeks of recovery, Boomerang heard two of the guards mentioning Katana. One of them, the new guy that he'd headbutted before the mission, mentioned that she was stitched up and due out on another mission in a few days. Boomer had smiled when he heard this. The smile widened when he noticed how many teeth the new guy was missing after their altercation.

Lying on his bed, knowing he'd never get used to the catheter, Boomerang wondered how long he'd be like this for. Eventually, while counting up dates, he realized it was two weeks to his thirty-second birthday. The realization didn't rouse any emotional response in him. There was no reason for excitement. It had been a long damn while since anyone had cared that it was his birthday and they sure as shit weren't gonna start now.

* * *

She'd been deployed six days ago. He hadn't heard anything more about it. Nothing about whether or not she got back. No news was good news, that's what he kept telling himself.

He'd spent his day the only ways he could. He tried to work out and got pissed off that he couldn't do as many push ups as he once could. He tried to read a book that had belonged to Harley and got pissed off when the unicorn turned into a real girl. Finally, he tried to jerk off and got pissed off because it just wasn't the same without Pinky, who had been confiscated months ago.

In truth, he wasn't really angry because of these inane nuisances. He wasn't angry at all. He was worried. Boomer sat on his bed, waiting for the door to open. It was all he could focus on.

He was forty-five years old that day and it looked like, for the first time in years, he'd be alone. He spent most of his time alone. Apart from the occasional mission or an altercation with the guards, he was always alone. But being alone today meant something worse.

One way or another, she'd been there each year.

She was the only person who gave a shit about him. Fucked if he knew why. She didn't need him for anything. She was smarter than he was, a better fighter than he was. She had respect and power. And good taste in whiskey. He didn't know why she came in year after year or why she looked out for him. He was no use to her.

He remembered the look on her face years ago, when she had tried thanking him for her birthday present. It was like it really meant something to her. Like it mattered.

He shut his eyes tight and scratched furiously at his forehead.

Of course it didn't matter.

He wondered what would happen if she didn't come back this time. He probably wouldn't need to worry about spending another birthday alone. Boomerang figured that if she didn't come back, he'd be dead within the year. She was the only reason he was still alive. He'd spent days thinking about it. She kept an eye out for him. She watched his back during missions, stopped the guards from putting him out of their misery. And whether she knew it or not, she stopped him from going crazy. Regardless of what the quacks said. It wasn't the meds they doped him up with that kept him from finally breaking. It was her. He was sure of it. She was his guardian angel and he sure as shit didn't deserve her. Why did she care about him? What use was he? Why was she not back yet? Why-

He heard the crack a split second before he felt it. Shaking, he looked to the source of the pain and saw his fist, smashed clear through his mirror and making an attempt at the solid wall behind it. Without thinking, he had run from his bed and straight to the sink across the room. He slowly retracted his hand, flinching when he tried to loosen his fingers. Blood dripped from the dozen or so openings that weren't plugged by tiny bits of glass. The pain that began clouding his vision was surely from a break, although where exactly he couldn't tell. The whole damn thing looked a mess.

"Fuckin' idiot." He whispered, pushing at the remaining shards settled deep into his knuckles.

The guards didn't care if you hurt yourself. It was, to a degree, almost encouraged. But if something needed to be reset then a trip to the medical center was on the cards. After all, an incorrectly healed break could render you useless on a mission.

He spent several minutes prodding his broken digits before actually alerting the guard.

Cuffed and surrounded, Boomerang was escorted down the corridor. Walsh was telling him he was like a dog that gets old and starts pissing everywhere. He said it was better that they put him down now. Boomer was barely listening, instead contemplating how difficult it would be to knick painkillers when the doctor wasn't looking.

Walsh signaled for the next gate to be opened and Boomerang was pushed around the corner. Suddenly, he smiled. It was his first genuine smile in a long time.

He had, despite the mask, become quite adept at deciphering Katana's facial expressions, mild though the changes were. When she spotted him, restrained and bleeding, he knew the look right away. It was most certainly the exhausted look that usually preceded what was, despite everything, still his favourite word.

"Bakayarou." Katana said, slowing her pace and shaking her head.

As he crossed her path, Boomer shrugged and gave her a wink.

He didn't know if she'd be at his cell by the time he was brought back. He very much doubted it, busy lady that she was. He knew they wouldn't have their small talk, he knew she wouldn't hurl incomprehensible curse words at him and he knew that the bottle she'd been holding as he went by wouldn't be opened today.

But it was okay. She was here. There was always next year.


End file.
